Calling Saint Nicholas
by Scotty1609
Summary: The Bat Family settles down for a calm Christmas. And two-year-old Mari Grayson hands Damian her toy phone.


It was a lovely Christmas Eve so far.

Gotham had decided to bless its victims of residence by clearing the muggy gray skies and replacing them with a soft silver dusting of snow clouds. A few inches of powdery fluff covered the ground and made the acres of Wayne Manor look more pristine than it had been in years.

Inside the looming estate gathered a large family, huddling in the living room around a ten-foot evergreen and a blazing marble fireplace. A red-haired young woman in a wheelchair handed a lithe ebony ornaments as he diverted his attention from trimming the tree to flirting with said woman. She laughed at one of his corny jokes and kissed him, earning a groan from his two younger brothers. The oldest of the two, a nineteen-year old young man with black hair and dark eyes, was sitting on the floor and stringing popcorn, as per tradition. The younger, nearly fourteen, was sitting on the couch with a sketchbook and pencil, trying to ignore his family and failing miserably.

Near the fireplace stood a young Asian woman, speaking with her father- a tall, broad-shouldered man who was for once wearing a smile on his face. An elderly man, nearing his seventies but still filled with life and vigor, was bringing cookies and hot chocolate out from the kitchen. Finally, on the Persian rug in the middle of the room sat a two-year-old little girl. Her hair was unnaturally long for her age, and her bright green eyes seemed to glow with mirth as she babbled into a plastic phone.

Everyone took note when the child stood and hobbled over to the fireplace, all going on edge protectively as per the usual. When the baby tugged on her grandfather's pants, the man grinned and picked her up and held her close.

"Hello, Mari," he said to her, kissing her forehead. "How are you?"

Mari babbled, few words understandable- "cookie", "pa-pa", and "mama" some of the intelligible ones. "What to you have?" Cassandra asked with a smile and she poked the baby's stomach. Mari giggled and squirmed to be put down, Bruce doing so and holding onto her shoulder for a moment while she caught her balance.

Mari decided next to hobble over to where her Uncle Timothy was stringing popcorn, reaching for the treat and trying to put it in her mouth. "Ah-ah!" Tim called out gently, taking the popcorn from her. "No, no, Starshine. You're too little to eat that." Crocodile tears filled the toddler's eyes and she began to sniffle and whimper, earning her a hug and tug into the lap by the red-haired woman.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma," she babbled as tears streamed down her cheeks. Barbara kissed the baby's forehead and chastised her, "Uncle Tim just doesn't want you to choke, baby. You hardly have any teeth right now as it is."

Richard peered from around the tree with a grin as he picked up another ornament. Ever since Koriand'r had dropped Mar'i'ander on his doorstep, the little girl had the entire Bat-family wrapped around her tiny fingers, Bruce and Tim especially. Even Jason had been known to drop by the Manor unannounced to pay a visit to his niece, going to far as to leave his guns at home.

Mari blew raspberries at Barbara and gestured for 'itsy-bitsy', her little fingers twisting around each other as she tried to do the rhyme. Barbara laughed and helped the child perform 'the Itsy-Bitsy Spider', singing the diddle along with the motions. "The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out! Out came the sun and..."

Mari forced her adoptive mother to repeat the song at least two more times, Dick and Tim chiming in at the parts they knew well enough. After the third time, Mari squeezed out of Barbara's hold and plopped back on the floor in front of the sofa Damian was perched in. She babbled on her toy phone for a few moments, the only words anyone could pick up being 'cookie', 'itsy-bitsy', and 'Day-ee', the name she affectionately used for her uncle Damian.

Damian scrunched up his nose as the little girl turned and tried to pull herself up onto the couch, grunting and huffing in effort to hold onto her toy and do so. With a roll of his eyes, Damian grabbed the back of Mari's footie-pajamas and lifted her to sit next to him. She cooed and chanted his name, "Day-ee, Day-ee, Day-ee!" as she snuggled into his chest, going back to talking on her phone.

Dick, from his position hiding behind the tree, grinned as he watched his daughter and youngest brother interact. Damian may act tough, but Mari was dear to his heart and he would never allow a harmful finger to be lain on the girl. As if to prove Dick's thoughts, Damian pulled Mari into his lap and stroked her hair as he exchanged his sketchbook for a novel.

"Baba da dee cookie da da schoo oo Day-ee Day-ee!" Mari screeched into the phone, making Damian wince and scowl. When the child turned to him, however, and held out the phone to him, his eyes softened. "Day-ee talk!" she cheered him on, grabbing for his hand with one of hers and handing him the phone with the other.

The whole family was frozen, waiting for what the teenager would do. Sure, he loved Mari, but Damian Wayne was a very prideful boy. Because of this, it shocked everyone when he gently took the phone from his niece and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Mari chirped her happiness, scrambling off Damian's lap and sitting on the floor in front of him, watching him carefully as he 'talked' on the phone to whatever foreign dignitary he had made up. Barbara and Dick laughed loudly, Cassandra giggled, and Bruce and Tim sent Damian wry grins. "Oh shut it," he grumbled to them, handing the phone back to Mari.

"It's Saint Nicholas," he told her. "He would like to know what you want for Christmas."

And so the baby continued to babble on the phone while her parents continued to trim the tree. Bruce and Alfred eventually sat down with hot chocolate, Cassandra going to sit with Tim and string popcorn. Damian returned to his sketch, a beautiful portrait of a beaming little girl with long, flowing black hair.


End file.
